


It's Not Your Fault

by xenous



Category: Take That (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Rape, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-21 16:02:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18705646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenous/pseuds/xenous
Summary: Mark will always love Rob no matter what he does to hurt him.





	It's Not Your Fault

Every time you do this, I try and pull my arms up over your head even though I know you're going to pull them away and smack me across the cheek, spit on my face. I try not to cry, but I know I will. I'll beg you to go slower, to stop. I'll try and talk you down. But it never helps.

And it's not your fault, Rob.

 

***

 

I opened my eyes when I felt scratches on my shoulders. And I saw your face. Well, I saw that  _thing_  wearing your face. Ugly smile, eyes so light it looked like your irises had bled into the whites. A look on your face, almost like you were hungry for something.

I probably should've yelled, but I was a scared twenty-one-year-old who had no one to yell for.

I remember how I hated myself for almost moaning into that painful kiss. When you pulled me up by a tight fistful of hair and forced your lips hard against mine, teeth tearing at my flesh when the kiss broke.

I felt you move over me, a leg on either side of me. Your eyes barely saw me as you kissed me again. This time I felt blood when you pulled away, saw your lips stained a different shade of red.

And then my eyes went wide when your fingers slipped under the waistband of my pants, moving to pull them down. I grabbed your hands and you shoved them away, the sound emerging from your mouth almost a growl.

“R-Rob?”

You didn’t answer, just hooked your fingers around the elastic waistband and tugged them easily off my nonresistant body. I stared up at you, terrified and choking on air when you manoeuvred to pull off your trackies. I shook my head about an inch - all I could manage to move.

And you slapped me across the face so hard it turned the other way. I could actually hear your hand slicing through the air. I didn’t turn back to you for a moment, dotting the pillow with blood and tears.

“Who are you?” I whispered, almost screaming when I felt your hand force its way under my chin to turn my head back towards you. Your face was softer now, your eyes returning to their normal shade. You looked...concerned almost.

“It’s alright.” you murmured, kissing my cheek. “It always hurts the first time.”

And then you pushed into me. I felt like I was going to tear, but that wouldn’t come until later.

You put your hand over my mouth to keep me from screaming. “It’s alright.” you kept repeating as you rocked against me. “It feels better when you start to bleed.”

I shook my head, trying to say ‘stop’, but your hand remained firm against my lips.  _You’re not Robbie. Who are you?_

I tore a handful of thrusts later and your hand bled with how hard I bit it, but you remained unfazed. “It’s going to get better now. It will, I promise. I'll take care of you, Mark. It’s going to be fine.”

I don’t remember much after that.

 

***

 

It’s weird how you can end up dating and falling in love with someone who rapes you once or twice a month. It’s weird how you can make love to him and laugh and then freeze up when his icy demeanour and frost-covered lips find you on an unsuspecting night. Bedroom, shower, couch...it's all the same.

And you’ll spend the rest of the night washing away the stains and changing the sheets, begging for it to end and praying to God that he'll never find out.

And he’ll wake up the next day to find you staring at the television, a vacant expression on your face and the cold coffee that nursed you through the night at your feet. He’ll hug you and kiss your neck, concerned. Wondering aloud about your cuts and scratches.

And you’ll feel like shit. He thinks you’re cheating, but he doesn’t realise the ‘other man’ is himself. And how close ‘other man’ comes to describing it.

Because he’s not himself when his eyes turn grey.

He’s not your Robbie.

 

***

 

_No. Please, no. Just... just stop, please!_

“Harder. Oh, fuck! Right there! Please don’t cry, Markie. It gets better.”

_We went two fucking months without this shit. Why did it have to start again? What the fuck do you want from me?_

“We don’t do this enough.”

“We’ve done _this_ three times today.”

__

“It’s still not enough. I love you, Mark.”

“I love you, Rob.” 

 

***

 

And then comes the day that you flinch when he kisses you. And he looks at you, both worried and upset. “Mark?”

You shake your head, tears forming in your eyes. “No. I can’t. Not today.”

You move to get up, but he catches your wrist. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

You stare at him as the tears start to fall down your face, shaking your head. “I-I can’t tell you.”

“You can tell me everything.”

“I can’t tell you about you.”

  
  
***

 

It hurts when he won’t talk to you. And when he sleeps on the couch. And when his bottom lip trembles half of the time he’s with you. And when you hear him crying in the bathroom, puking up whatever chemicals he decided to shove into his body tonight.

And you hurt so much on the inside from being without him, that not only does it not hurt, but you actually want it for once. And then he’s shoving into you and making you bleed.

And when he kisses you after, whispers 'I love you', and rolls over, you smile and can’t even be bothered to change the sheets.

And he wakes up the next morning in a bed he doesn’t remember falling asleep in, staring at the blood stained sheets and then at you with wide eyes.

So you tell a lie. And then you tell another so that you won’t have to spend another night alone in your bed.

And then you hate yourself for welcoming being raped.

Or you try to.

 

***

 

I'll never let Rob find out what he does, he needs me to protect him from himself. I will never again neglect to change the sheets.

I'll endure this and still manage to somehow love him the next day.

Because I love him more than anything.

I can’t help it.


End file.
